


In Pursuit of Sensibility

by nerdyydragon



Series: Kingsman Tumblr Ficlets [16]
Category: Kingsman (2014), Kingsman (2015), Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry is an idiot but that isn't really a surprise, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Young!Harry, how did I end up using jam as a plot point, same age ! au, same age ! hartwin, typical english emotional constipation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdyydragon/pseuds/nerdyydragon
Summary: Harry's mother delights in telling keeping him informed of major changes that happen while he is away, but it doesn't necessarily mean he is ready (especially when news of a new groom comes during a period in which he is unavailable to receive him in genesis)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay honestly like at this point I feel as though I'm being redundant because you all should know that I gain about $0.00 by providing you with these things.

Having extended his third year at Oxford into a spring semester to make up necessary language and history courses, Harry had missed several major changes in staff at his family’s estate.

The first and, most important, was that their head groom had retired, leaving the care of horses to his more than capable second in command, someone about Harry’s own age who attended a community institution part time to work on a degree of some sort, something that allowed him to continue working throughout the year. The second fact was, in particular, the new head groom himself, who apparently had brought in an extra hand during the winter, and that his parents rather liked.

Sitting in the train car with Roxanne - a young woman a year younger than he whom he had met in his Military History class and thus invited out to his home for a visit - he attempted to work out his parents’ thought process behind it.

“I’m sure he’s perfectly capable. My mother spent near two pages going on about his abilities with the horses, and her mare’s liking of him.” Roxy nodded, not looking up from her book, and hummed. “My question is where he came from. He certainly hadn’t been there when I left for school last fall, and I would have known about Percy’s retirement beforehand.”

“Maybe your Percy brought him in, knowing that his health was failing.” Roxy replied, turning the page of her book. “Your parents aren’t required to give you extremely explicit details on minute changes, Harry, honestly.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he sighed, resigning himself to the fact that she once again was.

“You know that I am.”

The rest of the train ride was quiet, Harry giving in and taking out a battered copy of Austen’s Mansfield Park, running his thumb over the careworn, well-read pages before opening to the beginning again.

It seemed like no time at all that the train was pulling into the small rural station, a sleek black car sitting idle near the kerb, waiting. A man leaned against it, his tartan flat-cap pulled down to shade his eyes as he flipped through a newspaper while he waited.

“Afternoon, sir. Ma'am.” Harry smiled and greeted the Scotsman, and assisted him in loading their bags into the trunk before climbing into the back seat with Roxanne and beginning the final stage of their journey. Watching as his family’s estate came into full view up the drive, Harry began to vibrate with anticipation. His mother had mentioned that their new groom was a handsome young man and, while he was sure she meant it as a general comment, any such utterances from his mother were not to be taken lightly. Roxy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and promptly rolled them exaggeratedly, having been privy to his ramblings throughout their final two semesters of speculation as to how the man actually looked.

Walking up the stone steps with a spring in his stride, Harry was scarcely in the door more than a moment before his mother had come flying into the entry and pulled him into a firm hug.

“Oh Harry, my child, it’s been far too long.” She said, finally releasing him. His mother was tall, nearly eye level with his own towering frame, and he had inherited her dark, expressive eyes and chestnut curly hair. “And who is this young lady?” Shaking Roxanne’s hand she raised an eyebrow at him.

“This is Roxanne - we met at school. Roxanne, this is my mother.” He sighed as his mother got a hopeful gleam in her eye - his parents had never taken well to his…. particular preference, and still held out vain hope that he would settle down with someone whom his mother could speak of finer, more delicate things. “Mother, is Amelia still with us?” His mother sighed deeply; their maid was a very pretty woman, self assured but never loud in it.

“Oh, I see.” She smiled - forced - at both of them and took her leave.

“Alright then, Harry. I know you’re eager to visit the stables. Why don’t we go now?” Harry’s mood brightened, and they made their way into the rear of the estate towards a long, stately building where their new groom was likely to be found.

And so he was. A young man about their age, in fitted tan breeches and mid-calf boots, with a dark blue sleeveless tank baring his broad, muscled shoulders and strong arms had his back to them, sweeping the last of the dust out of the open stable door. He straightened and ran the back of his wrist across his forehead, and the sun glanced of his golden-blond hair. He must have been staring, because beside him his companion snickered.

“Afternoon!” She called, outpacing him as the man turned, taking off his gloves. Harry was struck by the hard, sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones, contrasting with the softness of his mouth and the dancing grey-blue-green of his eyes.

“Afternoon. You must be Harry, though I can’t say I’ve heard a thing about you, miss.” Roxy laughed as she shook his hand, and he leaned against his broom, smiling. Harry nodded absently, still trying to collect his thoughts into a coherent, publicly decent format. He watched as sweat glistened in the dip of his clavicle - Harry knew that any sort of relations with this man we’re going to be a struggle.

“I’m Roxanne, a friend of Harry’s. But you can call me Roxy.”

“I’m Gary, Gary Unwin. ‘Cept everyone calls me Eggsy.” Roxy cocked her head to the side, even as Harry knew immediately that the man’s name was, in all its forms, rather pleasant.

“Eggy?”

“No, no. Egg _ s _ y.” Gary put his broom to rest and clapped his hands together. “Your da told me you was gonna be home today, so I took the time to bring your horse in, if you wanted to say hello. That is why you came down here, isn’t it?” Finding his voice, Harry swallowed.

“Well, as pleased as Galahad will be to see me, we actually came down here to meet you, Eggsy.” The blond man pinked slightly, an even splash that went from high on his cheeks down past the neck of his shirt.

“Oh, um. Well then.” Harry found the stuttering adorable, and in that moment he knew that he was well and truly done for. “Pleasure to meet you both. Shall we?” He gestured inside the barn, and the three of them made their way quietly down the aisle to where a large bay was watching them with interest. He whickered softly and Eggsy offered him what smelled to be apple bites before scratching the gelding behind the ear. “Right beautiful horse you have, Harry. Kept him well fit for you, when I could, and he’s an amazing ride.” Harry nodded.

“Thank you, I gentled him myself.” Eggsy smiled, evidently pleased with Harry’s lack of inadequacy in the saddle. Roxy looked between the two of them awkwardly, as the two men seemed to be having some sort of nonverbal battle.

“Well, gentlemen, I suppose this is where I take my leave. If either of you need me, I’ll be visiting that lovely palomino I saw in the paddock out front. It was wonderful to meet you, Eggsy.” With that, she turned on her heel and exited the stables, leaving the two men alone.

They both seemed to subconsciously move closer to each other, perhaps under the pretext of stimulating more intimately preserved conversation.

“If - well, I suppose you have other things to do, obviously - but if you had, perhaps, some free time this evening…”

“If you’re asking me to go out riding with you, Harry, then I’d suppose I’ll have to say yes.” Harry smiled, extremely thankful that the other man had understood his half formed sentences. He leaned against Galahad’s stall, well into Harry’s space, and he was presented with the subtle scent of tack oil and soft leather, alfalfa, and apples. “Fortunately I’m boarding here full time for the summer so I don’t have to find a ride into town.”

“Oh?” Harry tried not to blush at the insinuation.

“Your folks were kind enough to board me rent-free, since I’m obviously not here all the time during the academic year, so long as I meet all their conditions. Simple, really. Keep up in school, and make sure all the horses get put through their paces at least once a week on top of my regular duties.” The blond ran a hand through Galahad’s mane gently. “Makes everything rather convenient, I s'pose.”

He winked and gave the horse a firm pat before leaving the barn entirely, Harry watching him go as far as his sight could allow him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? A second chapter? This took far longer than expected but I've been so busy (not that that's an excuse or anything) that quite frankly a fair lot has fallen by the wayside.

Dinner was an awkward affair. With two new people around the table, it was far more cramped than anyone had been used to recently, and the constant apologies for bumping elbows made the conversation rather stilted. Harry’s younger brother Daniel watched Roxy intently, as though he had never seen a girl before. At only the age of ten, Harry supposed that he  _ couldn’t _ have seen too many women of Roxy’s age, so the staring may have been warranted - but years of having it drilled into him still made him want to tell Daniel it was rude.

“So, Roxanne, isn’t it?” Roxy nodded politely in his father’s direction, taking a sip of her water. “How exactly did you come across my boy?” Although the question itself seemed innocent enough, Harry’s father was not the sort of man to beat around the bush. He had an agenda, and the only way this conversation would end was in disappointment. Across from him, Harry could see his mother grimace. She, at least, knew when not to ask such pointed questions.

“We met in one of our classes. It was Military History, wasn’t it Harry?” Roxy looked at him, silently questioning the topic of conversation.

“It was, you had arrived late enough that nearly every other seat was full, and yet for some reason you wanted that particular one.” Roxy smiled.

“It was the closest to the front of the room. Can you blame me? The only other feasible seat was next to Charlie.” It was no secret, at least between the two of them, that Harry strongly disliked Charlie. He didn’t hate him, per se, but although he was civil Harry didn’t go out of his way to be overtly friendly. Harry’s parents shared a glance, and then his father spoke up again.

“So I take it you’re a woman of learning, then? Interested in the dusty lines of old?” Roxy nodded politely again, still unsure of how to take the other man. “Our Harry’s quite interested in it himself. Has this uncanny obsession with Arthurian legends. I can never get him away from the stuff, though I’ve personally never understood them.” Roxy smiled into her water, and Harry looked down at his lap. His father always brought up what he assumed to be his son’s failings around guests, and Harry absolutely abhorred it.

“On the contrary, I find the legends to be fascinating as well. There’s a certain  _ je ne sais quoi _ about them, I think. It makes me want to keep digging into them, to try and make sense of the truth.” It was times like this that Harry was glad that he and Roxy were friends; she always knew just what to say to put others back in their place, and refused to let people assume anything about who she was. Harry had always admired that quality about her, and he respected her dedication to getting accepted into Oxford all the more for it. His father had that look on his face, the one he always had when he was being contradicted and was about to reassert himself.

“Have the two of you been down to the stables yet?” Fortunately, his mother took that moment to derail the conversation, though subtle she was not. It was clear to everyone that she had done it on purpose, yet Harry couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased with the turn. Roxy grinned, and Harry, for his part, made himself very interested in his dinner. “I’m sure Galahad has been longing to see you.”

“We’ve been, definitely. It’s a wonderful building. It makes me quite homesick, actually, for the poor mare I’ve been neglecting while at school.” Harry’s mother smiled, and then glanced at her son. “And you dear? I take it you find everything up to standard?” Roxy covered a laugh with a well-placed cough, though Harry could see right through her and fought the urge to glare at his friend.

“Yes, mother. Everything was absolutely perfect. Just as I expected it to be.” Roxy coughed again. “Are you quite alright?”

“Just fine, thank you, Harry. Your attention is flattering.” This time, for her rather pointed jab, Harry did send a glare her way.

The rest of the meal was eaten in relative silence, compared to the light conversation at the beginning, and Harry tried his best to not seem as though he was rushing through it, even as with every passing moment he watched the sun cross the sky through the bay windows in the dining room. It was getting late, he knew, and he still had an appointment to keep. Time with his parents always seemed to drag, and this particular meal was no exception. Faking a yawn, Harry crossed his utensils over his now empty plate and watched Roxy do the same.

“Well this has been lovely, mother, but I do think that it’s time I show Roxy to her room for the night. We’ve had, as you know, a rather long day.” His mother glanced at the clock on the wall, frowning slightly when she saw that it read barely after six in the evening.

“Are you sure? There are fresh butter tarts in the kitchen if you’d like to have some with tea.” Roxy, looking at him out of the corner of her eye, shook her head and blinked sleepily.

“Thank you, but no. Harry’s right, I am rather exhausted.” The crinkle in his mother’s brow deepened for a fraction of a second before she sighed softly.

“Well, if you insist. I suppose Harry can show you to your room. Though I never did ask - how long will you be staying? You’re welcome as long as you like, you know.” Roxy thought for a moment.

“Only for a few days. Things to take care of at home, and all that.” His mother nodded.

“She’s in the guest room nearest yours, dear. Her things should already have been brought up.” Then, thanking his parents for dinner, the two of them left the dining room and made their way upstairs in silence. Harry could see laughter dancing in his friend’s eyes, and he knew that the moment they were out of hearing range of his parents she would pipe up, as she often did. Sure enough, they had just arrived at her room when she opened her mouth and rounded on him.

“Now you look here, Harry Hart.” Her voice was stern, though her eyes still sparkled. “I want you to go get washed up and then come back here. I will  _ not  _ have you traipsing about the countryside like that.” Harry looked down at his outfit - it was the same thing he had been wearing earlier that morning, and she hadn’t breathed a word about his fashion sense  _ then _ .

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Absolutely nothing, for a normal day.” Harry raised a brow at her. “But this evening isn’t a normal day, is it? You have plans, do you not?”

“How do you even know that? There was no possible way you could have heard a word we were saying.” A cheshire grin spread over Roxy’s face.

“I didn’t, but thank you for confirming that you do, in fact, have some spine while in the vicinity of a pretty face.” She pushed gently at his chest and then shooed him away from her. “Now go get washed up, and then come get me.” Shaking his head, Harry entered his own room to get washed up and pick out something that would be suitable for his ride. He didn’t want to look too formal, unsure of what Eggsy himself would be wearing, but he also didn’t want to come off as uncaring. Setting out a pair of dark brown riding pants a cream button-down, looking at the outfit he couldn’t decide if he wanted to add more to it. Harry dug through his closet to see if he had a good waistcoat for a pop of colour, and he had narrowed his choices down to three before Roxy entered the room without knocking.

“I think the green.” Harry squeaked in surprise. “It will go with his eyes.” Spinning around and shooting her a glare, Harry crossed the room and set the dusty olive green waistcoat on the bed next to her. “What?”

“Ever heard of knocking?” Roxy became interested in her hands. “Absolutely nothing phases you, does it?”

“No, now go and put this on. You don’t want to keep him waiting too long, do you? He may think you’ve forgotten about him.” Picking up the outfit - now complete with boots, courtesy of the room’s most recent arrival - and ducking behind the screen in the corner of the room, Harry tried to keep his hands from shaking. It had been so long since he had been interested in someone, and it wouldn’t be false to say he was nervous. Popping the last button into place and running a hand through his hair, he stepped back out.

“Well?” Roxy pursed her lips as she surveyed him, then tilted her head to the side. Crossing the room, she very pointedly undid the top two buttons.

“There, perfect. Eggsy won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.” As was often the case whenever something along those lines came out of his friend’s mouth, Harry blushed. Planting both hands on his back, she gave him a friendly shove towards the door. “Now  _ go _ .” Opening the door and making to step through it, Harry paused.

“Do you think Eggsy would like butter tarts?” Regardless of what Roxy said, Harry had already made his decision to beg the kitchen staff for some, and possibly an assortment of other treats as well, if possible. Roxy only laughed.

“ _ Go _ .”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg an update; what's this? That's what it is, a new chapter!

Harry could hear his parents talking in the sitting room on his way to the grounds, and as he passed by he could hear them speaking inside though the door was closed. Deciding he had the time to listen for a moment, Harry pressed himself against the wall nearest the door. Harry knew that eavesdropping was extremely rude, especially on one’s parents, but it was more than fair to do so if you heard your own name - wasn’t it?

_ “I just don’t understand what’s wrong! Roxanne seems like a lovely young woman!”  _ His father must have opened the bottle of scotch again. His drinking habits had only gotten worse when Harry had entered university, and while he was by no means aggressive in any physical sense of the word, he was certainly loud enough. Harry could hear his mother sigh while she waited for his father to undoubtedly continue.  _ “What have I done wrong, Mary? Why did our boy turn out like this?”  _ Harry could hear his father’s armchair creak as he sat down into it, and Harry pressed a hand against his mouth. It wasn’t  _ his  _ fault that he was interested in the things he was. There was no failure of parenting involved, it was simply who he was.  _ Why couldn’t they see that? _

_ “I don’t know George. Perhaps if we did something? Roxanne did say she was only going to be here for a few days, but that’s no reason not to invite her out later this summer. Even if she isn’t interested in Harry, there must be a friend, or a sister, or some other relative.”  _ Harry was stunned; his own mother, no matter how many times he had made it clear that he had no interests in pursuing marriage of all things - and  _ certainly  _ not with Roxy, who in the last few months had become the sister he never had - she still insisted on trying to find him a suitable lady. Harry swallowed, torn between wanting to enter the room and confront them both, but knowing that it wouldn’t be worth it. Seeing the sun play through the window, Harry thought of Eggsy, and pushed off of the wall, heading for the kitchens.

It wasn’t a long walk, and when he carefully opened the door and slipped inside, he was confronted with a wicker basket. Harry could still see the steam rising off of it.

“What’s this?” He looked between the cook and her assistant, and both women giggled.

“It’s for you, Harry.” He raised an eyebrow. “Word travels fast in these walls. We heard that you were talking to Roxanne about our head groom just after dinner, and figured that a pastry basket wouldn’t go amiss for your little trip.” Harry blinked thrice, glancing between the basket and the two women in confusion.

“For me?” They nodded almost simultaneously.

“The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. You may not have made what’s in here, but he’ll appreciate the thought.”  _ Eggsy _ . This was a gift for  _ Eggsy _ , for  _ them _ . Harry smiled, still unsure.

“Thank you. I - thank you.” Harry was still tentative to take the gift, as delicious as it smelled. If they had heard about his talking to Roxy - even if they weren’t saying anything  _ now _ , what was to stop them from doing so later? The cook sighed.

“Henry James Hart, you listen to me right this minute. I have known you since your parents were carrying you around swaddled in blankets. I was the one who always snuck you extra biscuits after dinner, and your parents still don’t know that it happened at all. I was the one who turned my back when you brought guests home who your parents would deem  _ questionable _ . Take the basket, young man. It won’t bite you.” She was older, almost as old as his mother, and he had known her his whole life. She was kind. Harry trusted her, and he felt horrible for doubting her, even for a moment. Harry took the three steps to the counter to where the basket was sitting, then turned abruptly before picking it up and giving the woman a tight hug. Then he grabbed the handle, and disappeared without a word.

Thanking whatever powers existed that the curtains hanging in the sitting room window were closed, Harry tried not to run down the path to the stables. He had taken longer than anticipated, and he hoped Eggsy didn’t believe he had forgotten him. Nearly tripping several times on the cobblestone in his haste, Harry finally made it to the low-lying building and stalled in the entryway. Galahad and a buckskin Harry didn’t recognize - Eggsy’s own horse, possibly - were tacked and tied, waiting for their riders. Pacing nervously down the aisle, waving his hands animatedly and muttering to no one in particular, or perhaps the horses, was Eggsy. He was dressed similarly to earlier, only this time in clean breeches, and his sleeveless tank had been exchanged for a long sleeved work shirt of the same dark blue. Harry thought he looked stunning.

“Sorry I’m late.” Harry could hear his voice echo off the stall doors, and though he had tried to sound confident, his nerves from earlier were evident. Eggsy stopped his pacing and smiled brightly at him, and waited until Harry had reached him to relieve him of the basket.

“You brought snacks?” He took a deep breath in through his nose, holding the basket up slightly. “Well, whatever’s in here smells  _ gorgeous _ . I just hope it isn’t cold by the time we get to eat it.” Smiling at Harry again, Eggsy tilted his head towards the horses. “Shall we?” Harry nodded, and they mounted, leaving the stable quickly but beyond that heading nowhere in particular.

They rode in general silence for the majority of their ride, commenting briefly on the time away from each other, but altogether simply enjoying the silence. Reaching the top of a hill in a secluded part of the property, ringed on one side with a thicket and making it invisible from the main house, the two tied their horses and sat down, watching the sun as it progressed slowly but steadily towards the horizon. Harry placed the basket between them, more for his own sanity than anything else - it wouldn’t do to get too attached to Eggsy without knowing where the other man stood, and sitting away from each other was the best way to maintain that distance, even if Harry knew it would ultimately be futile.

“Sometimes I come and sit out here at night, when it’s warm.” Harry looked over at Eggsy, pausing from where he was about to open the lid of the basket. “I was born and raised in London, and you can’t see the stars there like you can out here. It’s nice. Peaceful.”

“I suppose it is.” While he had never gone on late-night excursions as Eggsy had, Harry watched the stars plenty of nights when he was home. “The make me feel as though I’m not alone.” Eggsy nodded solemnly, but didn’t respond otherwise, opting instead to continue Harry’s aborted mission of opening the pastry basket. Inside he found an assortment of butter tarts and apple turnovers, and a rather interesting looking loaf that neither of them knew quite what to make of. Pulling out a turnover, Eggsy took a bite and swallowed back a moan. Harry couldn’t help staring at the way his jaw worked as he chewed, his tongue darting out to lick the icing sugar off his lower lip. Eggsy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, and Harry blushed. He busied himself with grabbing hold of a tart to avoid looking at the man next to him, who had leaned back onto one hand. “You seem to do quite well with horses. How did my parents come into contact with you? My mother wasn’t specific.” Eggsy chuckled.

“I was always busy running carts for the neighbours - they own one of the last few carriage companies, you see. Nearly everyone uses cars now. My,” Eggsy paused, looking off into the distance and frowning slightly. “My stepdad was never good with them, yeah? Horses. Or people neither, come to think of it. But the point is that the bloke who used to work here - Percy, real great bloke, was in town on errand for your mum and saw me in the stables for the horses. My stepdad was causing a ruckus about my being there at all, and when he left Percy came over and introduced himself. Watched me get the horses calm, and said he was looking at retiring, and that he needed a replacement. Said he figured I would be a good fit. Didn’t know a lick about me, just offered me a job.”

“And here you are.” Eggsy nodded, taking another bite of his turnover - or perhaps popping the last two bites worth into his mouth in one go would be more apt.

“And here I am.” Eggsy chewed, and this time Harry made a concerted effort not to watch him swallow. “At any rate, the extra bit of money I make gets sent to London to help take care of my sister. Mum tries, but with my stepdad around, well, times are hard, yeah? I do what I can.” Harry didn’t comment aside from a nod, then pulled the strange looking loaf out of the basket and broke it in two, breathing out a laugh when jam oozed down the side. He offered half to Eggsy, who grinned and took it, raising the pastry to his mouth and Harry’s hand with it. He had caught Harry’s hand along with the pastry, and instead of turning his attention to it he ran his tongue pointedly down the stream of jam that had travelled across Harry’s fingers, looking him in the eye as he did so.

“Cherry. My favourite.” Harry swallowed thickly, and with a cheeky wink Eggsy let him go, taking a bite off the side of the confection and this time not bothering to suppress his moan. Harry thought that the other man had to be doing this on purpose, there was no other logical explanation for his actions. Harry took a bite of his half of the loaf and turned awkwardly to watch the sunset.

“I think that might be a little bit like you, Eggsy.” Eggsy hummed in response, his mouth full. “The sky. Just when I think I have you figured out,” The sun dipped below the treeline and the colours changed from orange to vibrant pinks and reds. “You take me by surprise.” Eggsy looked at him, eyes wide and lips parted gently. The effect was rather ruined by the little bit of jam that was hiding by the corner of his mouth, and without a thought Harry swiped it away with his thumb and cleaned the digit off in his mouth. Eggsy moved the basket aside so he could shuffle next to Harry. The light from the setting sun played off of his hair, turning it to spun gold. “Beautiful.” It was hardly more than a whisper, but Eggsy smiled shyly up at him, all traces of earlier cockiness gone. Harry crossed the distance and pressed their mouths together, and when Eggsy tipped backwards, one hand on Harry’s shoulder, he followed easily. Bracing himself above Eggsy, Harry smiled. “Absolutely  _ beautiful _ .” He kissed Eggsy again before laying down next to him, and the sky faded from purple into black.

“Watch the stars with me?” Eggsy’s voice was hesitant, unsure, and Harry tangled their fingers together in response.

“Of course.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Roxy disappears for a while but she'll be back eventually. Ish.

The days passed and Roxy took her leave, despite the many attempts from Harry’s parents to entice her to stay. Both she and Harry were well aware of what the elder Harts had planned, and she had chosen her date very carefully upon her arrival. She had given Eggsy a hug before she left, and had procured Harry’s promise of writing, with one of her own and a declaration that she would be back to collect him in autumn as they made their trip back to school. Her departure left Harry and Eggsy alone, for a large sum of that time. Something had shifted between it, and like the delicate being it was, both men were careful. Though they spent nearly every possible minute together, much to the chagrin of Harry’s parents, it was over a fortnight before they were out late in the evening again.

Harry ran the soft brush down Galahad’s coat, rubbing away the last of the loose hair and with it what remained of their excursion, aside from a few scratches on his forearms from where he had had to pull Eggsy from a bush when his horse spooked. He had always loved spending time in the barn, and from their youth he and Galahad had been nearly inseparable. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Eggsy lean against the stall door, not speaking. He tried not to think about the other man’s eyes on him, and the tingle down his spine when his back was turned. Finishing up with his steed, Harry leaned against the same wood panelling, facing Eggsy.

“That’s a fine horse you have there, Harry. Sound.” Harry shrugged. Earning Galahad’s trust, even when he was a foal, had been easy. “A good ride, too.”

“I suppose he is, yes.” Eggsy finally turned his attention to him, and with how close they were standing, their noses brushed.

“Can I ask you for something, Harry?” For a brief moment, Harry worried that the last weeks had been leading up to this, and that Eggsy was just like any other person his parents had warned him about, before he quickly tamped it down and felt embarrassed for his silent assumptions. Harry nodded minutely, and even so close he could see Eggsy smile. “Stay with me tonight?” Harry blinked once, twice, and Eggsy waited patiently for a response. His parents knew he would be out until further notice, riding as he had done every day since he had been home, and if he didn’t return they would most likely presume he had gone far enough to stop off at a neighbours’s for the night. As much as he didn’t enjoy lying to his parents, even by omission, Harry could at least admit to himself that he wanted to stay. And besides, for the majority of his twenty three years, Harry had been lying to them, enjoying doing so or not. Next to him, Eggsy shifted. Realizing that while he had been thinking he had also failed to respond, Harry closed the distance and pressed his mouth against Eggsy’s. He could feel the tension drain out of the other man, the worry, the apprehension at being discarded. Pulling back to look at him properly, Harry smiled.

“Lead the way.”

Opening the stall door, Eggsy took Harry by the hand and lead him to the end of the barn aisle, past the tack room and then up a narrow, steep set of stairs.

“It won’t be much, but there should be space for the both of us.” Despite Harry’s affirmation that he would stay, there was still an underlying current of fear in his voice. Harry surveyed the room, and every inch of it was a reflection of the man next to him. The desk that sat under the window was covered almost completely with papers and notebooks and pencils, some of them sketches, but many of them full of writings as far as he could see. An oil lamp sat on the edge of the desk, next to a bookcase that went floor to ceiling, and was nearly full of things itself. Almost every shelf was packed with books - all sorts, he discovered, running a fingertip along some of the spines, from fiction to history and back again. Trinkets dotted it here and there, an old globe, and more than a few horse statuettes. A short, four-drawer wooden dresser stood along the other wall at the foot of a double bed, the duvet still a mess from the last time Eggsy had occupied it. Next to the bed was a small table, this one holding only a worn leather journal and a stack of letters. Eggsy, who had taken to holding up the wall by the single window, looked at Harry as he stood in the centre of the room, taking everything in. His brow was pinched in concern at Harry’s silence, but his face split into a grin when Harry near tossed himself onto the bed.

Taking a breath in through his nose, as he sunk down into the mattress, Harry caught a whiff of the same apple spices and alfalfa that he had smelled on the first day they had met. Shuffling over on the bed, Harry tapped a hand on the space next to him.

“There’s more than enough space for the both of us, I think.” Eggsy chuckled and tugged off his shirt, leaving him in his breeches and an undershirt. Harry tried not to swallow, though Eggsy would have missed it if he had when he reached down to unlace his boots. Remembering how ill-dressed he was for bed himself, Harry busied himself with taking off his own riding boots and depositing them neatly at the end of the bed. When he looked back up, he was greeted with Eggsy striking a fire in the small wood stove that Harry seemed to have missed on his first survey of the space. Satisfied with the fire that glowed behind the cage, Eggsy sat down on the edge of the bed.

“That really what you’re going to wear to sleep?” Leaning forward, Eggsy popped open the top button of Harry’s waistcoat without looking away from his face. “That’s got to be awful uncomfortable, Harry.” This time, Harry didn’t manage to conceal his swallow from the other man, and Eggsy laughed. Still smiling, Eggsy stood and pulled a tank out of the top drawer of the dresser and tossed it at him. Harry caught it and looked down, unsure. “You gonna put that on? Or are you used to someone helping you undress?” The tone of Eggsy’s voice was playful as he sat back down, shifting until he was in Harry’s space, and Harry could feel heat stain his cheeks. Eggsy popped the second button on his waistcoat, and Harry felt the blush spread down his chest, reading Eggsy’s body language and knowing where this was headed. Eggsy didn’t move any further, opting instead to lift Harry’s face up with two fingers to look at him. All tones of playfulness were gone, his face somber. “If you’re uncomfortable, Harry, you just have to say so.”

“It’s not that,” but Harry couldn’t make the rest of the words come out. He _wanted_ this, wanted _Eggsy_. But he was afraid that if he allowed it to go on at the pace it was, then he would fall too quickly. He was afraid of giving his heart only to have it trod under the hooves of the horses he loved so dearly.

“If you’re sure,” Eggsy didn’t quite sound certain, but popped open the next button only when Harry placed his hand on it. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. It’s your call, Harry.” Eggsy worked in silence after that, opening button after button until he could remove Harry’s waistcoat entirely, and only then did he glance back up. Harry looked at him, trying to keep his expression from melting like he wanted it to, trying to keep it from showing Eggsy just how much he had come to care for him in so short a time. Eggsy sighed heavily, opening the first button of Harry’s shirt before tilting back. “Harry, are you sure you’re alright?” Harry nodded, but he must have seemed pained as Eggsy studied him with blatant concern.

Harry couldn’t take it any longer. He didn’t know how long he would be able to have this; the moment his parents found out about their relationship was the moment Eggsy was shipped back off to London, lost to him, and likely the moment he himself would be forced into an engagement he didn’t want to a woman he couldn’t love. His head told him to wait, but his heart was telling him to take the chance that was presented to him. Kissing Eggsy as he hadn’t dared to do yet, long and deep and full of promises, and then stretched out on the bed, opening the next two buttons of his shirt as he went. Drawing nonsense patterns into Eggsy’s thigh absently, Harry smiled.

“The only way I could _possibly_ be any better, is if you joined me down here. Though I must admit, the view is rather lovely.” Eggsy coloured down his chest, just as pink as the sunset they had watched earlier, but followed Harry just the same.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter V - I hope you enjoy it!

The heights of June faded and with it came August, the letters from Roxy marking the only outside influence until the second week of the month, when Harry’s parents announced they would be hosting a small party. Harry knew by  _ small _ his parents were actually referring to  _ everyone of some standing that has a daughter about Harry’s age, while making it seem as though we aren’t pushing them on our son _ . He had been through it before, and he knew that it would happen again. Eggsy had given him a hearty laugh for it, at least, saying that there was no reason why anything should come out of his parents’ attempts to marry him off. Harry had wanted to tell him that he didn’t really have a choice, wanted to say that he was beginning to have a sinking feeling that whatever they were could only ever be temporary, and it would be, if his mother had her way. He wanted to confess to Eggsy just how much he meant to him.

Harry might have done it, too, just then, with the two of them lying in the thick grass, soaking up the late summer sun. He might have told him that he loved the way he smiled, and the way he was so gentle with horses. The way his eyes lit up when he spoke about his sister, or his long-shelved dream of being an author, or the stars. How he loved the way the sun glanced off his hair, turning it gold, and how he was warm in the mornings they spent together. He might have told him how he could have written sonnets about his eyes, and filled books with the goodness of his heart. Harry might have told Eggsy that he loved everything about him, were in not for that nagging feeling. There was nothing more dangerous in his life, nor more constant, than the feeling of inadequacy and unrequited emotion. He didn’t  _ know _ how Eggsy felt, but was content to read it in the feel of his mouth, the touch of his hands and the weight of his body. Learned it in the sound of his laugh and the stars in his eyes but he didn’t  _ understand _ . Eggsy was something far past his scope of comprehension. He was a puzzle, a sunset. An Enigma.

“What are you thinking about, Harry?” Eggsy nudged him with his foot and Harry was brought back into the moment.  _ You _ , he wanted to say.  _ Always you _ .

“Friday.” That was the date his parents had set, and though it was still nearly a week away the urge to hide from the no doubt ridiculous amount of women was staggering. Eggsy hummed in response.

“And you’re sure there isn’t a way out? None at all?”

“No, I have to attend, and I have to make a concerted effort to dance with as many women as possible.” Harry huffed and rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up to look at Eggsy. “My mother has already given me my marching orders, it seems.” Eggsy wrinkled his nose.

“The army wouldn’t torture you like that, you would at least have  _ some  _ freedom there, yeah?” Eggsy’s attempt at a joke fell flat; they both knew that it wouldn’t be an escape to enter into an officer route, and that Harry would only be signing away his life with Eggsy if he did so. Pulling a hand-full of grass away from the earth, Harry let them scatter in the breeze, watching them dance away from him. Below him, Eggsy huffed loudly, the same sound he made when one of the horses shook too near him, and he ended with part of their mane in his mouth. It seemed that in his attempt to metaphorically watch his life fly away from him, a fair amount of the blades had dropped onto Eggsy. The blond’s face was scrunched in disgruntlement.

“You know, in some cultures, putting grass on someone is a sign of romantic love?” Harry froze, but Eggsy wasn’t deterred. “O’course, we use rings  _ now _ , but that used to be something that was done.” Harry nearly swallowed his tongue. Eggsy couldn’t  _ possibly  _ be thinking of this in that light, could he be? Was it possible for Harry to not be alone in this?

“Really?” Eggsy shrugged, shoulders moving laterally from his position on his back, one reaching higher than the other as a result of one arm being behind his head. “Where did you come across that?”

“Read it in a book once. Did you know that the Greeks equated marriage proposals to tossing an apple at your partner? Right  _ weird _ , that one.” Harry hummed in response, still attempting to wrap his head around the first statement. He dropped back down to the ground, still on his front, and crossed his arms under his head. Perhaps if he couldn’t  _ see  _ Eggsy, then he may be able to sort out what, exactly, was going on. He was always a tangle of emotions around Eggsy, but right down at the centre he had noticed the turbulence ended, and that he was calm. In the past few weeks he had come to recognize that as Eggsy being the constant acceptance in his life, the balance he needed to counteract the worry about his parents.

Between the heat and the near silence, instead of thinking Harry had almost fallen asleep, but tensed when he felt something brush the back of his neck. Feather-light touches dropped down the back, pressing his shirt to his skin only barely enough to notice.

“Eggsy, what are you doing?” He got his answer by way of a heavy sprinkling of grass landing on his folded arms, cascading off his hair and brushing against his face. Harry tilted his head to see the man next to him, causing more blades of grass to fall onto his arms.

“Telling you something I should have done long since.” Next to him, propped up on one elbow, Eggsy looked almost bashful, with a hint of pink tainting his cheeks. “I didn’t read you wrong, did I? Because I thought that, since you -” Harry chuckled, and pushed himself off the ground to sit up.

“Eggsy, you are by far one of the most perceptive people I know. How could you have possibly read  _ me _ wrong?” Leaning over, Harry kissed him hard enough to send them rolling into the grass, a tangle of limbs and laughter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops? Here we go.

Harry could take comfort, at least, in the presence of Roxy and Amelia. If he had to take one more turn around the dance floor he would pitch himself off of the roof, and it would probably hurt less. Dance after dance, it seemed, under his mother’s watchful eye, and as he had expected not a single woman had managed to capture his attention. Harry could no longer feel his feet for the ache that had taken residence in his limbs, and the throbbing in his temples increased the longer he sat. He had barely escaped Christina, the latest in a long string of potential wives that his mother had set out for him, and had taken polite leave of the party to sit on the back lawn with Roxy and Amelia. He was exceedingly grateful to have them on his side.

“Why don’t you just tell your mother? Why continue with this farce?” Still rubbing at his temples, Harry looked up at Amelia to where she sat on the grass reclining on Roxy’s knees. The two women had been introduced no more than a handful of minutes before becoming thick as thieves, though Harry couldn’t honestly say that he was surprised in the slightest. Amelia bit into an apple and chewed before speaking again. “Surely she would understand if someone else held your attentions?” Harry shook his head at the brunette.

“No, she wouldn’t. As it stands she thinks that I’m merely being difficult, and that if she pushes hard enough I won’t have a choice but to come around to her way of thinking. My mother  _ legitimately _ believes that holding parties will actually do her, and me, some good.” Harry ripped a handful of grass from the earth beneath him and tossed it to the wind, watching it blow into the rapidly setting sun. “Besides, I could never do anything to compromise his position here. I know how much the work means to him.”

“Perhaps if you didn’t give a name, simply that you were involved?” Roxy turned her attention from the sunset to the people in her immediate surroundings, raising a hand to absently brush dirt off of Amelia’s shoulder. Harry shook his head again.

“She would know. I believe she already suspects, which is cause for caution. The last thing I wish on him is dismissal back to London. It’s just as well that we’re returning to school soon. As much as it will hurt to be away from him for so long, the separation will hopefully ease my mother’s anxiety about the whole affair.”

“If you know you’ll be leaving soon, then why not go have a visit now?” Roxy had a point; they had been away for long enough that suspicions would be raised inside, and unless he found a way to disappear entirely for the remainder of the night he would be forced to suffer until early the next morning. “If anyone asks, we don’t know where you’ve run off to.” She winked and hauled Amelia from the ground, the two women making their way back inside. Harry sat for a moment longer before standing himself and making his way to the stables, lost in thought.

Now, Harry had been met with many a peculiar sight in his life, a fair few involving compromising positions. But never once had they involved people with whom he was intimately acquainted. Though, given the individuals involved, he really shouldn’t have been surprised. Eggsy had his back pressed against the stable wall, and even from the back Harry could tell that the second man was none other than Charlie Hesketh, whose only business on the property was to accompany his sister, and it seemed he was failing spectacularly. Harry couldn’t see Eggsy’s face from the way Charlie was in his line of sight, but his mind immediately assumed the worst. He had always been naive, to believe that someone as handsome as Eggsy would stay with him, that he would be  _ worth it _ , even after the declarations they had made earlier that summer. Shaking his head and swallowing the bile rising at the back of his throat, Harry dismissed the deprecation of both himself  _ and _ Eggsy and continued walking, just in time to see Charlie stumble backwards.

“Dammit Charlie, I said no. What the fuck is wrong with you?” There was no way Eggsy could have been able to see past Charlie, and the anger and fear that was so blatant in Eggsy’s voice gave Harry just the smallest hint of hope. Charlie dusted himself off, affronted and insulted.

“That wasn’t what you were saying before, now was it? I suppose you think you’re too good for that sort of thing, now that you have a steady job? I’m surprised the Harts would even take you in.” Eggsy swallowed thickly, eyes flicking between Charlie and Harry, who he had just now noticed. “Or do they not know? And - who are you looking at?” Charlie turned to look over his shoulder, thrown off by Harry’s arrival.

“What’s going on here?” Deciding it was best to deal with Charlie first, Harry stepped smoothly in between the two men, his back to Eggsy. “I would like an explanation, Charlie, if you don’t mind.” Harry crossed his arms and waited as Charlie looked him over.

“Aren’t you supposed to be up at the house, trying to win yourself a pretty little wife? Doing a fine job of that, aren’t you?” Harry narrowed his eyes.

“My business is none of your concern. But while we’re on the topic, I’m proceeding about as well as you are at chaperoning Maria, whom last I saw had disappeared out of the hall with Christina’s elder brother Digby.” Charlie blanched. “Best run along, then. Before she does something scandalous.” Charlie turned stiffly on his heel and made for the house, though he didn’t get far before his steady walk became a sprint. Making sure he was well out of hearing distance before turning to face Eggsy, Harry tried to tamp down on his emotions. Eggsy was holding up the wall again, a trait Harry learned only happened when he was nervous, and was searching for an exit, avoiding Harry entirely.

“Eggsy, darling, what happened? You’re pale as a ghost.” Eggsy forced himself to exhale, and his whole frame sagged against Harry the moment he was within reach. Harry brought his arms around the other man, one around his waist and one carding gently through his hair, even as Eggsy clutched at the front of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I’m so,  _ so sorry _ .” His voice was tight, and Harry could feel his breath stutter against his neck as Eggsy tried not to cry. “I was just minding my own, and then he was just  _ there _ , honest.” Harry rubbed small circles into his back.

“It’s fine, Eggsy, really.” Eggsy shook his head from against Harry’s neck, but didn’t speak. “But I really must ask, darling. It  _ did _ seem as though the two of you were rather… well-acquainted.” In lieu of a reply, Eggsy stilled, and Harry felt sick to his stomach for doubting him, though the nagging feeling that there was something he was missing had returned in force.

“Remember how I told you, that first night, that I did what I had to do to help keep money coming in?” Harry took a deep breath through his nose, breathing in the smell alfalfa in Eggsy’s hair underneath the strong current of Charlie’s cologne. “Well I -” Harry cut him off, beginning to understand where this conversation was going to go, but not wanting to hear the words.

“Did you want to do it?”  _ Please tell me it wasn’t a personal choice. Please tell me there was a reason. _

“No. But we needed the money, Harry, you have to understand.” Eggsy’s voice was muffled, and with every word Harry could feel his breath fan across his neck and just the barest touch of Eggsy’s mouth. “And I knew that if I didn’t go, then the next step would be either my mum, or the whole lot of us tossed on the streets. Dean didn’t care how the rent got paid, so long as I had the money coming in.”

The two of them didn’t speak for several moments, simply standing in the aisle holding each other. Harry knew that some part of him should be upset with Eggsy, and in truth the small, selfish part of him was, but he wouldn’t begrudge the man he loved for doing what he had in order to keep a roof over his family’s head. The larger part of him was angry with men like Charlie. Taking Eggsy by the hand, Harry lead him up the stairs to the little room Eggsy had come to call home, closing the door behind him and locking it. When he turned around, Eggsy was stretched out pliantly on the bed, the light from his eyes gone and a resigned expression on his face. Harry crossed the small room and, taking his eyes from Eggsy’s face, made short work of the man’s boots, and then his own.

“So how are we gonna do this, then?” Harry’s heart broke over and over, hearing that tone come from Eggsy’s mouth, knowing that he had undoubtedly used that phrase many times in the past. “We have a go and then you head back up to the house, win yourself some pretty bird, yeah?” Harry shook his head, hovering over the other man, who was now looking at him curiously. Propping himself on one arm, Harry kissed him softly, trying to tell Eggsy how much he loved him. How the esteem he held for him hadn’t crumbled under the weight of the past.

“No.” Rolling onto the mattress and coming to a stop on his side, Harry tugged him close until their chests were flush together. Eggsy pulled back slightly, the same eyes that had captivated him from the beginning now looking up at him in wonder. “ _ You  _ are going to get some rest.”

“What about you?” Eggsy’s voice was quiet, muffled partially by the pillow and partially by the hollow between his mouth and Harry’s shoulder, but the anxiety was still present in his voice.

“I’m going to stay right here, and make sure that you aren’t disturbed.” Harry looked past the shock of golden hair just skimming his line of vision to look at the moon through the small window, trying not to think about how he would only have two more days until he was on a train and back to school. Hesitantly, he placed a kiss to the top of Eggsy’s head, feeling his heartbeat and breathing even out under his hands as the other man began to drift off.

\-----

“I wanted to give you this.” Harry stood at the end of the drive, waiting for Roxy to arrive and take him to the station. Eggsy had come to join him, and standing even an arm’s length apart felt like an ocean after what had happened. Harry was still coming to terms with Eggsy’s past, trying to find up from down, but knowing that the first thing he would do upon seeing Charlie Hesketh wouldn’t be to give him a polite hello, it would be to drive his fist into his face. Repeatedly. “I know it ain’t much, but I figured, since you’re gonna be gone and all.” Eggsy ran a hand along the back of his neck, kicking absently at a stone and decidedly  _ not _ looking at Harry. “It’ll give you some stuff to think about, at least.” With a tentative smile, Eggsy stuck his hands into the front pockets of his breaches and walked away, head down, leaving Harry standing alone with an envelope containing whatever it was he wanted Harry to know.

Eggsy didn’t look back, and somehow, that cut him deeper than words on a page ever could.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter than the others, but I'm afraid I got a little stuck.

Harry sat back in his chair, running his hands through his hair in resignation. The stack of textbooks on the corner of his desk seemed to be mocking him, reminding him of the life he had chosen for himself at the expense of those he held dear. His handwriting sat indecipherable in an open notebook.  _ This is ridiculous. I’m getting nowhere _ . Sighing heavily, Harry put his notebook aside in favour of a stack of loose papers, twirling his pen idly.

> _      I should have told you, that day, how I felt about you. I should never have believed it was enough to confer it in antiquated gestures. The truth is I was  _ _ afraid _ _ bloody terrified. Of you, partly. Mostly of myself. I know it isn’t an excuse, and you deserve better than that. Deserve better than me. I just hope that one day you can forgive me for the way I treated you. How we ended things - I don’t like to think of it as an end. I just wish I wasn’t so much a coward as to stop hiding behind my words and actually send you these letters. _
> 
> _      I catch myself turning to you for conversation whenever I come across something you might like, only to remind myself that we’re worlds away - or, at least, it feels so. In reality we aren’t so far as that, but sometimes it makes it easier to bear your being away from me (or is it my being away from you?) to think that there is more distance than is true. The writing helps, sometimes. It brings you back to me, even if you aren’t really gone. After all, I was the one who left. _
> 
> _      I punched Charlie in the face the other day. I just thought you should know. I still haven’t forgiven him, though whether it was for impinging upon your honour or simply for his existence I can’t quite be sure. That probably won’t mean anything to you now, and perhaps you wouldn’t even have wanted me to do it. But I did, and it happened. It felt good. _
> 
> _      I don’t want to say goodbye, and I never really do, not to you. I don’t like saying goodbye to people I love. And I do love you, darling, truly.  _
> 
> _      Yours, always, _
> 
> _      Harry _

The letters were never enough, not to bridge the distance between his dorm at Oxford and what seemed like an endless summer. It was always difficult, writing to Eggsy. Especially knowing that he would never send them. Roxy said that it would have been better if he burned them, instead of letting them sit unsent in a pocket of his desk. That he should tell Eggsy how he was feeling instead of putting it down and then letting it lie. That it wasn’t fair to either of them.

Rolling his shoulders out, Harry put the letter with the stack of no less than a dozen others that he had written since the beginning of September, and left his desk as it was.

It was rare that there was any warmth in the rare sunshine this late in October, but as Harry walked about the empty courtyards he could feel the gentle heat it still offered. The trees were finally beginning to turn and it seemed everywhere he went there were reminders of what he had left behind; the bustled comings and goings of carriages, the subtle smell of apples as he walked past the visitors’ stables. Harry had taken to avoiding them - not because he wanted to  _ forget _ , but because he was afraid. Afraid that the longer he spent associating those senses with other images, the more he would forget Eggsy and the sound of his laugh, the taste of his smile, the soft look in his eyes. Afraid he would lose him even more than he already had. Harry hadn’t dared to open the letter Eggsy had given him the day he left for London, which was, in part, why he hadn’t sent one of his own in return. He simply didn’t  _ know _ . He wasn’t sure if it was better this way, or if he was simply delaying the inevitable.

Sitting down on a bench, Harry simply sat and listened to the world around him, tried to put himself back in time. It was nigh impossible, for even though he could imagine the stables of his childhood home and the long nights spent out on the grass, there was always something that threw him off. The sound of birds chirping in the trees around him, people walking in small groups and discussing their classes or other idle chat; it was impossible to put himself perfectly back into the moment. Harry didn’t know how long he had been sitting there in silence when someone made a point of utilizing the other end of the bench. Opening his eyes and glancing over, it was Roxy.

“You should send one of those letters.” She said, as she had many ties since she discovered he had been writing them. “Or all of them. He needs to know how you feel.” Roxy still wasn’t looking at him, opting instead to study a robin hopping about in its nest in a nearby tree.

“Have you heard from him?” Harry hadn’t heard a word from the man since he had left for school, and he tried desperately to contain the heartache at Roxy’s nod. “And what did he say?”

“Nothing in particular, nor anything I’m entirely willing to share with you. Eggsy is my friend too. But he  _ did _ ask after you, more than once, and whether or not you’ve forgotten about him.” Roxy’s voice was hard, patronizing, and Harry let his head hang. “I told him that you hadn’t, but I also didn’t tell him any more than that. It’s between the two of you. Get it together.” His friend gave him one more pointed look before getting up and walking away from him, not looking back.

Roxy cared for him, he knew, and only had his best interests at heart. Perhaps she was right, and that he should mail those letters before it was too late. It was a small comfort, at least, to know that Eggsy still wondered after him, but without context he still didn’t know how the man was feeling.  _ Why was he writing to Roxy? Why leave me in the dark?  _ Harry shook his head. Eggsy was under no obligation to write to him at all, especially after he had all but given the man a dismissal for two and a half months. Maybe he  _ would _ send him a letter, even it was of purely platonic content. He owed Eggsy that much.

Harry knew that he was too much of a coward to send one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roxy tried to help me, really, she did. We both are of the firm belief that Harry is an idiot.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Gasp* what's this? A new chapter!

Watching the light skiff of snow swirl off of the rooftop, Harry could see clumps of students crisscrossing the cobbled courtyards, dressed warmly for the late December weather. It was still fairly warm for this time of year, but there was a bite to the air that hadn’t been there before. Turning away from the window, Harry put the last of his things into his bag and weighed the stack of letters. There were over two dozen of them now, though he  _ had _ managed to pluck up the courage to send one to Eggsy. He didn’t know if the letter he had gotten in return was proof that Eggsy had truly received it at all, or if the other man had simply given up waiting on his reply and had written to him, but either way the rather short missive had prompted him to make his choice. His train was leaving in an hour, and then he would be bound for home. Tucking the letters under his mattress, Harry turned his back on the room. The first letter that Eggsy had given him, what seemed so long ago now, was safe inside his his inner pocket of his jacket. He still hadn’t read it, but the train was as good a place as any.

The remaining hour passed in a blur of cold and pushy people, and then he was seated in a train car more or less by himself. Harry pulled the letter out of his pocket, running his fingers over Eggsy’s messy yet elegant script before beginning to read.

> _      I know that you said you didn’t care, Harry, but for my own good conscience I have to tell you the truth. You and I both know that when I say ‘I did what I had to do,’ I ain’t referring to anything gentlemanly. One look at how people like Charlie treat me will tell you that much. I try to be a good person, but it’s hard when everyone looks down at you like they know - like they know exactly what you’ve had to do to survive. It’s hard, yeah? So forgive me if I have trouble understanding you. Your motivations. What you’re doing with someone who knows ins and outs of things he shouldn’t, and isn’t afraid to get down on his knees and work for it. _
> 
> _      It’s hard to believe that you’re leaving already. Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe things would have been different if I had known. Things I would have told you. _
> 
> _      I didn’t think life would be so different once you were gone. I was almost expecting it to return to normal, go back to how it was before I ever met you what seems like so long ago now, but I know that it won’t be true. That I’ll find myself reaching for you in the middle of the night, dreaming about the days we spent together. Maybe you will too - I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out, yeah? But whatever happens, I hope I’ll hear from you. Even if it ain’t much, I want to know it. Want to know everything I can, so that I have something to hang on to. Something solid to remind myself that the last few months hadn’t been a dream. _

Harry looked down at the letter, the edge of the paper watermarked and ink-stained from where Eggsy might have been crying. It hurt more, reading this now, and having it contain what it did. He had been expecting solemn resignation; his mind had feared the worst after their goodbye, but to have it so full of hope, it made the time Harry had wasted wondering at his own position all the more meaningless. It was a wonder Eggsy had written to him at all, after how he had been more or less ignored. Curling up on the seat and tucking the letter into his chest, Harry slept, hoping that the steward would wake him when they pulled into the station. He didn’t sleep easy, nor was it well, plagued as he was by his subconscious reminding him how horribly he had treated the man he claimed to love.

\-----

Much like his train ride, Harry spent the remainder of his trip in contemplative silence, hardly speaking to the man who had so graciously braved the ice to collect him. He knew it was rude of him, but he also couldn’t quite bring himself to care. His thoughts had turned to what he would find upon reaching his family estate, and what he would say to Eggsy. How he planned to justify the treatment, but every single line he might use fell flat. It was never enough, and Harry knew that it never could be. Watching the snow - heavier here - swirl outside the window, Harry wondered about happier things; the way the snow might collect on Eggsy’s lashes or his hair, the way the wind might blush his cheeks in that lovely shade of pink. It was comfort, small as it was, to know that Eggsy would be expecting him.

When they made it up the long drive to the house, Harry ignored his bags in favour of going immediately to the stables, trudging through the snow and the wind that had picked up in the meantime. It tugged at his hair and his clothes, biting his cheeks, and he was thankful to finally make it into the stables. It wasn’t really any warmer than outside, but the walls at least blocked the wind and kept out the snow. Rubbing his hands together to get them warm, Harry looked around him.

The aisle was clean, more or less, but it held residue of almost a week’s worth of dust. There were no horses in any of the stalls, and the few Harry did happen to look into were freshly mucked and free of any debris.  _ That would explain why it doesn’t smell. _ It was odd, but Harry didn’t think anything of it.

“Eggsy?” There was no answer, but it was possible that Eggsy was simply upstairs. Taking his time walking up the stairs to the small room in the loft, Harry opened the door. The bed was made and the bookshelves were nearly empty. The desk had the same layer of dust on it he had seen below, but the bedding was, at least, freshly done.  _ Maybe he’s at school _ , Harry mused, remembering how he had been told that Eggsy was attending a local institution. Yet it didn’t explain the disuse of the room. Sitting down heavily on the bed, Harry heard the telltale crinkling of paper. Reaching under his thigh, he unfolded the sheet he had sat down on. It was in Eggsy’s handwriting.

> _ Harry - _
> 
> _      If you’re reading this, then I’m sorry. You must have gotten my letter, but it’s come just too late. Your parents will confirm that I’ve ended my employment here, though they’ve graciously paid for my final semester. They didn’t have to do that, so if you could thank them again I would be much obliged.  _
> 
> _      I wanted to see you, to tell you all the things I wanted to say, but the truth is that that I can’t be here any longer. I can’t walk down this hall or ride through the fields without seeing you, without remembering you. _
> 
> _ It’s too hard, and it’s killing me. I’m sorry. I love you, and I think I always will. _
> 
> _ Eggsy. _

Folding the paper again, Harry methodically went through the motions of burrowing as deeply as he could into the pillow under him, clutching at it with both hands. The case was damp under his cheek, and it took him a moment to realize he was crying, but once he knew it he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.  _ This is all my fault. If only I had written sooner, if only I had told him. _ Turning his face into the pillow, Harry tried to calm his racing heart. He could feel it breaking into pieces, and each beat would have been less painful were he being stabbed instead. Taking a breath in through his nose, Harry could feel his heart shatter all over again.

“I love you,” Harry muttered. “I’m sorry.”

The pillow still smelled like apple, and just subtly of alfalfa. Clutching it tighter to himself and ignoring the sun streaming in through the window, Harry let the emotional exhaustion take over, and slipped into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry.  
> Also as a head's up, poor Harry has quite the ride ahead of him.


	9. Chapter 9

The months away in Oxford seemed to stretch for years, travelling all at once at a slow crawl and rushing by so quickly that Harry hardly had any time to process them. He had returned shortly after Christmas, taking the first available train on the twenty-sixth and having little to no correspondence with his parents since. Before he knew it the snow had melted off of the trees and the birds that had vacated the region returned, and once more you could see the stone of the street more often than simply when the wind deemed it fit to gust.

Everywhere he looked, he saw Eggsy. He heard the sound of his laugh coming from groups of students passing down the swooping hallways of Oxford, he saw his bright, hopeful eyes in every new student he passed. The golden skin and smattering of freckles couldn’t be replicated, but more than once Harry had thought he had seen them as he met Roxy near the stables. She was worried about him. His grades were still up, and he was eating, at the very least, but beyond the basic necessities he wasn’t interacting with the world around him.

“Not that I don’t understand turning in towards your studies, Harry, what with our last set of finals approaching,” she had told him, biting into a pear and sending him a worried glance. “It’s good that you’re focused on them, because then you’ll be free of them for the time being before you apply for your Master’s degree. But you need to focus on the world around you, too. On people. You’ve gone vacant.” Harry had only shrugged and continued reading, trying not to focus on being so near to the stable. Even after months, it still hurt him to think about the horses. “Have you heard from your parents lately?”

“No, but that doesn’t come exactly come as a surprise.” He hadn’t exactly left on good terms after Christmas. He had argued with his father, for the first real time in his life, and he felt both more at ease and more distressed. It wasn’t enough to lose him his inheritance, but Harry knew he had to tread carefully around them for the time being.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Will you be going home after graduation?”

Harry didn’t know. The house held too many memories - or, at least, the grounds did. He understood what Eggsy had said about it being hard to walk through the stables or visit certain places without being reminded of the other person. Harry had spent nearly all of his full week at home in the groom’s quarters desperately chasing something that hadn’t been meant to be, what had amounted to the biggest mistake of his life because he had been so wrapped up in his own fear to even think about Eggsy. If he wasn’t spending uncomfortable nights asleep on the floor of the small room for fear of losing the last bit of scent, he was out with Galahad, no matter how short their trip.

“I think I might start looking for an apartment in the city.”

“You’re going to move out?” Roxy looked at him as though he had suggested that he was going to pack up and move to India. Harry set aside his book and leveled her with his best unimpressed stare.

“It’s not unheard of,” he replied. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know how to take care of himself, how to function on his own. He would manage. Roxy put a hand on his shoulder, but said nothing more. Harry was glad of it.

Graduation came and went, his parents throwing a small party for them. Harry knew it was simply an attempt to push him into what they perceived as the logical next step in his life; to find himself a nice wife and a good job and settle. Harry danced with Christina and more than enough other women than he dared to count, managed not to get into  _ yet another _ fistfight with Charlie, and passed the whole night in a wine-drunk blur while Roxy watched on in concern. She had eventually taken pity on his self-destructive path and carted him off to bed, pulling off his boots and tugging off his waistcoat before he threw himself onto the bed, not even bothering with the covers.

“Stay, please.”

Roxy would later tell him that he had sounded so absolutely pitiful that it had nearly broken her heart to do anything but comply, and that was why she had tucked herself in next him.

“I miss him, Roxy.” Harry sniffed, trying to fight back the tears that burned behind his eyes. “I know that it’s my fault that he’s gone and that I should have been better to him.  _ I know that _ . But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.” Harry was quiet for a long while, long enough for Roxy to begin to nod off, thinking Harry had finally gone to sleep. “Loving him doesn’t hurt any less.” Roxy ran a hand through his hair as he clung to her dress, dry sobbing with a river of tears that refused to flow.

“Oh, Harry.”

Nobody said a word when Roxy announced the next morning that she would be returning home briefly to collect some of her things and then staying for the indeterminate future. Harry’s parents were ecstatic, thinking that their son had finally found the woman for him and that she had been right in front of his eyes all the while. Harry knew the truth, and was beyond words that his friend had seen him at his worst and decided to stay beside him.

It was during this period that Harry’s life took yet another turn for the worse. Like all good things, mortal things, there must be an end. Despite being the gentlest, kindest beast to have graced Harry’s life, in July Galahad died. Harry had gone out to the stables that morning to check on his horse, who had been under the weather recently and, getting up there in years, had been in the stables at night. When the veterinarian finally arrived he said that the animal had died, likely painlessly, in his sleep.

It didn’t make Harry feel any better, knowing that.

Of course, that wasn’t  _ strictly _ true, because to say that is to imply he wished pain on the old gelding. It set him at ease, knowing that in his final moments he had gone quietly, but Harry felt he had owed it to his old friend to be there to help ease his passing.

“I didn’t even know,” Harry said when Roxy found him in the groom’s quarters - still vacant as they hadn’t found anyone who required to stay in the building, sourcing instead a man who lived up the road who said he didn’t mind the short walk twice a day - Galahad’s halter in one hand, curled up on the bed that had once been Eggsy’s but now smelled stale enough that it was almost as if the man had never been there at all. “I knew him his entire life, I  _ raised _ him, and I didn’t even know. I should have seen how sick he was getting. I should have done something.  _ This is all my fault _ .” Roxy sat down on the mattress next to his head, running her fingers through his hair as the tears he had so long been denied began to fall.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. These things happen. It was time.”

It wasn’t long after that when Harry met his parents in the entry, all of his things packed neatly into a trunk and on his way out the door, where the car was running and waiting to take him to the train station. His mother looked resigned, as though she had known this moment was coming since her son had been born. The house, the stables, the grounds, everything had become suffocating since Eggsy had left, like everything he had ever taken joy in had lost colour; the sunsets were as grey as a rainy day in London. There was no beauty in them, not without the two living things he had loved sharing them with no longer in reach - one no longer drawing breath and one so far from him he may as well have been dead. The longer Harry stayed, the worse he became. The air of death and sadness hung over everything like a fog and it was choking him. He embraced his mother tightly, filling his lungs with one last breath that caught the whiff of her perfume, turning his face into her hair like a child. Her eyes were damp when he pulled away.

His father was another story. The man had always been cold to him, every look filled with lingering regret and despair that his son wasn’t the man he had wanted him to grown to be. Harry extended his hand for the other man to shake and, grasping it, was pulled into the first hug he had received from his father in almost a decade. It was over as quickly as it had come.

“Do you really have to go?” His mother’s voice was small, tight, and just as resigned as the expression she wore on her face.

“You know that I do,” Harry replied, grasping the handle of his trunk.  _ There’s nothing for me here anymore. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry? The next (and final) chapter brings a soft end to our sad boy? It hurt me to hurt him like this? I don't really know what else to say to you?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, folks, here we go.

Harry looked around his flat, seeing the same things he had accumulated over time for the last six, rather lonely, years. There was a bookshelf along one wall that become near full to bursting with texts of all sorts: some of them school books, many of them history; the vast majority of them novels. The couch and armchair were still looking overstuffed despite the amount of entertaining he had done, mainly of friends he had met over the course of his degree. Old photos that he had brought with him decorated the mantle, only two of his family, many of he and friends. There were three separate ones of he and Galahad, the largest and by far his favourite one of them both in the prime of their youth, his hair in disarray as a foal puffed at him, nostrils wide, both of them gangly and awkward. 

His parents had never visited. Harry didn’t know whether he was disappointed that they hadn’t, or glad of it.

Putting on his coat against the bitter chill of December, Harry locked the door behind him and headed to the shop up the street. His cupboard had become low and, despite having only himself and a little dog to feed, it was a comfort knowing that there was food in them. If there was one thing he had taken from his living in the lap of luxury for so long, it was that one could never be too careful about food.

Harry wandered the shop almost blindly, picking up the things he knew he needed and setting them in the basket he had acquired at the door, not seeing anything and marking his progress only by the weight on his arm. It was fruit, mostly, and cheese. On a whim Harry took a bottle of milk as well and headed to the clerk to pay for it all, wondering whether he would need to stop at the butcher’s as well for supper. Paying and, with his things now gathered in a both more and less convenient paper bag, Harry began his journey home.

He was waylaid outside a bookshop.

It wasn’t unusual for him to head inside, arm full of food or not, but today Harry merely paused outside of the window, watching a man with broad shoulders swing a girl about the age of eight up into the crook of his arm, both of them cackling wildly as her feet narrowly missed a display while the clerk looked on with barely concealed distaste. Shaking his head fondly at the man and the girl whom he assumed to be a daughter, Harry nearly missed it. It had been a long time since he had seen that particular shade of blond hair, despite having thought it visible everywhere he went. How many times he had mistaken the set of someone’s shoulders or the way they held themselves. A laugh. London was large, and despite his hallucinations, there was no hanging on to the idea that he would ever see the man again.

Harry could feel every line of his body go rigid as the man turned around, that tumultuous green-blue-grey of his eyes that had so haunted Harry’s dreams finally settling on him, his smile dimming only slightly to become something softer. Harry could feel, almost against his will, his free arm raise up for a small wave, the blond returning it with one of his own as he set the girl down. Patting her on the back and shooing her off to who Harry could only assume was her mother, hidden somewhere out of sight, he left the shops, pausing briefly on the step.

“Harry.” His voice was warm, and, though worn little deeper with time, it was exactly as rich as Harry remembered it.

“Hello, Eggsy.” The word wasn’t out of his mouth a moment before Harry could feel regret settle inside of him.  _ I lost the right to call him that the moment I let him go. _ But Eggsy’s response was to smile brightly and step into Harry’s space, tugging the - now significantly taller - man into a hug, mindful of the bag he carried. It didn’t last long. “You look well.” Harry had to force the words out, had to tamp down on the longing he felt, knowing that the wife of his lost love was so near to them.

“I could say the same of you.” They stood there in silence, simply looking at one another, when the chime above the door sounded and the little girl from before rushed out and flung herself around Eggsy’s legs. Watching Eggsy smile down at her, Harry felt sick to his stomach.

“Mum’s mad at you.” Her voice was as bright as her father’s, and despite how beautiful it was it only made Harry want to curl in on himself even further. Eggsy chuckled.

“Is she now?” The little girl nodded. “Why’s that?”

“Because you left us in the shop without a word, young man.” Harry turned his attention to the woman who had exited the shop, staring at them both with an unimpressed expression.

“Sorry, mum.” Eggsy at least had the decency to look cowed, shifting from foot to foot in embarrassment.  _ Perhaps they were all out together. But where’s his wife? _ The little girl who had flung herself at Eggsy unattached herself and skipped over to the new arrival to their conversation, tucking herself into the woman’s side. “You remember Harry, yeah? The one who I had told you about, from before?” Eggsy’s mother gave him a thorough once-over.

“Of course I do. How could I forget someone so important to my own son?” Her voice was cold, and Harry was reminded again of how terribly he had hurt Eggsy. It served him right, really, for Eggsy to have moved on with his life. That wasn’t to say that Harry himself had achieved nothing, now working towards his doctorate and then on to work as a professor.

“Mum, I’m tired.”  _ Mum?! _ Harry managed to hide his astonishment when the little girl, the same as who he had assumed to be Eggsy’s own, addressed Michelle Unwin. Harry blinked.  _ I’m an idiot. _

“Do you want to go home, sweets?” Eggsy’s sister -  _ sister _ \- nodded, and Michelle ran a hand through her hair fondly. “Alright. I’ll see you later, babes.” She kissed Eggsy on the cheek and, with a glance between the two men, was gone. Eggsy scuffed his shoe against the stone, silent.

“Would you like to get a drink? I’ve got a bottle of port I’ve been meaning to try.” The stiff line of Eggsy’s shoulder relaxed, a bright smile overtaking his face.

“Ain’t port only for special occasions?”

“This qualifies as rather special, I should think.” Eggsy coloured high on his cheeks, and Harry found it no less beautiful than he had the first time they had met, not caring about how time had added one or two more lines around his eyes. Harry smiled.

They passed the time to Harry’s flat in an easy silence that Harry had thought time would have long denied him. Every so often Eggsy’s shoulder would bump against his arm and he would look down, only to see the other man resolutely not looking at him, a pink tinge to the back of his neck and worrying at his lip. The only time he was set at ease was when Harry locked the door to his flat behind them, a heavy sigh rushing past his lips as he settled against the wall, watching Harry putter around his small kitchenette putting things away.

“So, what have you been up to? It’s been,” Harry paused, holding the bottle of milk above the counter as he was struck with just how long he had been holding onto Eggsy.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it.” Harry nodded, setting the bottle down gingerly and nodding his head to the living room, taking two snifters from a side table and opening his liquor cabinet, finding the bottle of port he had mentioned earlier. “I published a book.” Harry set the snifter in front of Eggsy, watching as he settled himself onto the couch, looking as at home as he could have. The only way he could have been more natural was if he had lived there. “I took a creative writing course in my final semester, and my professor enjoyed my work so much that he said he would patron me provided I kept writing. So I did.”

“I’m glad of it, Eggsy. I know how much writing meant to you.” Eggsy only smiled and took a sip of his drink in response, and Harry fought himself to prevent reaching over and kissing the last of it off of the man’s lower lip.  _ Just because he’s here with me now doesn’t mean he hasn’t moved on _ .

“What about you?”

“I’m working towards my Doctorate, actually. Two more years.” Eggsy grinned.

“Good on you, Harry. I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”

And just like that, the ice was broken. The two of them talked well into the night, moving only briefly to gravitate to the kitchen for a quick meal before returning to the living room, Harry drawing the curtains of the window against the dark. The glow of the lamp made Eggsy’s hair shine like spun gold, and Harry felt homesick for the past. It was both better and worse, having him here. The self-inflicted suffering was worth every minute of having Eggsy here, in his flat, and watching his smile light up the whole room as they spoke of everything and nothing. It was nice; it had been so long since Harry felt this comfortable divulging parts of his life to another person.

As quickly as it had begun, Eggsy receded into himself and swirled the remains of his second - or was it third? - glass of port absently, watching the deep red liquor paint the edges of his snifter. Harry could feel the shift in the room, and waited for Eggsy to voice whatever was troubling him.

“I never stopped, you know.” Harry could feel his heart-rate increase, but it felt like it was beating truly for the first time in almost eight years. “You hurt me, really bad. I went months thinking that I would never forgive you for that. For ignoring me. I didn’t know if it was because you were reacting to what you knew, or if you hadn’t really felt for me at all.”

“Eggsy, I -” Eggsy steamrolled on overtop as though he had never heard the interruption to begin with.

“I wanted to hope that you were hanging on. Roxy told me very little, those first few months. I didn’t know how you were feeling because she said that it wasn’t her place to say, but I wanted to hope that all those months had  _ meant _ something. That you remembered them as fondly as I did. I didn’t want to think that you were anything like Charlie or anyone like him.” Harry could feel his fingers tighten around the crystal, silently berating himself for making Eggsy think that he had been used. He felt warmth against his skin, and when he glanced at his hand Eggsy was gently uncurling his fingers from around the rim of the snifter, gazing at him softly, sadly, as he set the glass on a coaster. “I knew you weren’t like that, deep down, but I loved you, and it hurt.”

“I think Roxy was worried I would do something drastic. I wouldn’t have, of course. But I retreated into myself after you - you left.” Eggsy tugged him gently, and Harry sat down on the sofa next to him. “I stopped seeing the world around me because everywhere I looked I was reminded of you. Of what I had done and how I was likely never going to see you again, and how it was all my fault. That summer was the happiest I had ever been. And I ruined it because I was nothing more than a coward afraid to take a chance. I’m sorry.” Harry rested his head in the crook of Eggsy’s neck, and felt the other man do the same on his own shoulder. “I never stopped either.” Eggsy chuckled.

“Look at us. All this time, hanging on to something, not knowing whether or not we would even see the person again. Hopeless romantics, we are.” Eggsy breathed out another laugh, and Harry felt it fan across his neck. Without thinking, he rested his hand on Eggsy’s hip.

“What do you want to do about it?” Eggsy was quiet for a long time, planting a gentle kiss behind Harry’s ear and pulling him closer, content to hold him after so long.

“I’ve never liked writing endings. They always feel so final, and they’re often sad. When I write, I always leave it with an open finale. That way people can imagine the future as they please. And never once, Harry, even as hurt as I was, did I believe that we had our ending. Sure, we hit a few bumps in the road,” Eggsy pulled back slightly to look Harry in the eye, his eyes wet and finding a match in Harry’s own. “But I think we still have a lot of pages left to tell our story.”

“We likely won’t get a fairytale ending, darling.” The endearment had long since fallen into disuse, but slipped off of Harry’s tongue with ease, and Eggsy lit up.

“I know, love. But we don’t need one. We had a good start,” Eggsy punctuated his sentence with a slow, explorative kiss, feeling Harry smile against his mouth. He rested their foreheads together when he pulled away, one hand grasping the back of Harry’s head, fingers carding through his hair. “And we’re happy  _ now _ . That’s all that really matters.”

  
_ ~  fin  ~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank all of you who stuck with this. It was an absolute pleasure to write, and I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did. Thank you all - each and every one of you - for reading! If you want to come chat, I'm also over on tumblr as nerdyydragon as well.


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